


Not Daddy

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Post-Hell Regression [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute Dean Winchester, Dean baby, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Little!Dean, Non-Sexual Age Play, Papa Sam, Psychological Trauma, caregiver!Sam, non-sexual infantilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: The first time was an accident. It really was. And now that it's been a few days, Dean can see how Sam's face lights up every time Dean calls him Daddy. Even so, Dean can't help the small frown he feels pulling at his lips when he calls Sam that. It's just not... right.





	Not Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> I've promised a fic, and I'm actually delivering. Who'd've thunk it? It's just the one chapter for now. I'm currently working on a much larger fic for this series, but it's slow-going. This is just a little something to tide you over in the meantime.

The first time was an accident. It really was. And now that it's been a few days, Dean can see how Sam's face lights up every time Dean calls him Daddy. It's not anything big. Sam doesn't beam openly or have a spring in his step, but Dean sees the small smile Sam tries to hide whenever he hears it, as if he doesn't want to force Dean to continue calling him that if he doesn't really want to. And Dean does. He really does. But he can't help the small frown he feels pulling at his lips when he calls Sam that. It's just not right.

Ever since that night, Dean’s been shy. And it's not for the reason he thought he would be. It's not that he doesn't want Sam to know that he sees his brother more like a father, that he accepts his role as a Little more and more each day, that he can't imagine Sam as anything other than his Caregiver. No, it's not like that at all. For all intents and purposes, Sammy is his daddy.

Dean shudders.

Daddy.

 _Daddy_.

That just makes it sound so… dirty.

It's not like that at all.

Not for him, at least.

And then Dean starts questioning their relationship. He knows people are into some kinky things. And he also knows people are into some things that go beyond the kinky. He's not sure which side this one would fall on. Is age play a kink? He thinks maybe it is, but it doesn't really matter. People sexualize it. _That's_ what matters. People sexualize it, and if people do that then maybe Sammy wants that too.

Dean doesn't want to stop. More than that, he's not sure that he _could_ stop.

He notices it happening more and more, but he finds himself smiling sometimes for no reason. He just sits there and smiles and it feels so good that he doesn't ever want things to change if it means he can feel like that all the time. Sure, he still has nightmares, and he can't take care of himself even though he knows he's physically capable because then the flashbacks take over and break him down to nothing. But when he lets Sam take care of him and they fall into the easy pattern of Big and Little, Dean's happy, dammit. He can't go back to misery, not when he knows what it's like when they're like this.

But… _Daddy_.

Dean shudders again.

He can't do that. He _won't_ do that.

" _Dean, baby_ ," Sam calls from downstairs. " _Lunch is ready._ "

Dean puts his crayons down and grabs the stuffed bunny from his bed, wondering for the millionth time as he goes down the stairs why the hell he’s so attached to the damn thing. It doesn’t move, doesn’t talk—to be honest, it’d freak him out if it did—isn’t the same kind of comfort that Sam gives him whenever he’s near. But, if he’s being honest with himself, he loves the damn thing.

He sits down in his chair where a plate of food sits waiting for him, sets his bunny down on the chair next to him. Dean doesn't eat, though. He sits patiently like he's supposed to until Sam comes out of the kitchen with his own plate for them to eat together.

"Thank you... Daddy."

Sam smiles. "You’re welcome, kiddo. Now eat up." Then he leans over and whispers conspiratorially. "I put an extra slice of bacon in yours."

Dean looks down at his sandwich—sliced into triangles without crusts because Sam is the best and he knows what Dean likes—and sees the bacon peeking out beneath the layers of lettuce and tomato. He takes a bite, savoring the sweet tartness of the tomato against the crunch of the lettuce before something salty takes over, churning his stomach.

He knows the flavor, knows he should love it, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s smelled the smell a thousand times under worse conditions than sitting across from Sammy at the table, eating his lunch. The phantom smell of burnt flesh invades his nostrils, and Dean swallows hard, letting the bite of sandwich settle in his stomach like a rock.

He sets the sandwich down with a grimace and picks at the small bowl of mixed fruit instead. He forces himself to eat at least half of it before he can’t stomach any more and gives up on food altogether.

“Dean, baby?”

Dean looks up at Sam. “I’m not hungry,” he says.

He’s grateful when Sam doesn’t question him further, just nods and takes their plates back into the kitchen.

“Time for your nap, kiddo,” Sam tells him when he returns.

It’s a good thing too. Dean yawns, eyes drooping like they do now that he’s used to having his afternoon nap.

By the time he’s curled up in his crib, blanket clutched in his hand, bunny in wrapped in his arms, bars surrounding him, keeping him safe, Dean’s no longer sleepy. Actually, that’s a lie. He’s so damn tired that he’s actually surprised he’s still awake. But his mind is going a mile a minute, thinking about Sam and why he’s willing to help Dean like he is, what he wants in exchange, and Dean can’t sleep.

“Daddy,” he mutters.

He hates himself a little for the word.

“No. Not Daddy,” he decides. Never Daddy. He can’t do that.

But it’s just the word, not the feeling behind it. Sam cares for him, just like a real parent would. It’s something he didn’t think he would ever be able to have: an actual childhood. Even if the circumstances are different, even if Sam’s actually his brother and not his father, even if he’s thirty years old and sometimes needs his diaper changed after an accident, Sam’s there, taking care of him, giving Dean a life he never dared to hope he could have. If anyone deserves the title, Sam does.

But _Daddy_? He just can’t do it.

“Dad,” he tries. He gets a flash of John in the old days, of sleeping in hotel rooms and spending hours in special collections and running on adrenaline and fearing for his life. If anything, he hates it more than Daddy. He strikes the name off of the list, never to be thought of again.

“Father?” he tests. It’s not too bad, he doesn’t think. But it’s too formal. He’s sure Sam would hate it, but what else is there? Dean groans. There has to be something other than _Daddy_. And he can’t go back to calling him Sammy, not after letting that other word slip past his lips. It would ruin everything.

“...Papa…”

Hmmmm…

“Papa Sammy.” Dean smiles. “Papa.” He likes it. A lot. Much better than _Daddy_. “Yeah,” he says to himself. “Papa.”

He just needs to talk with Sam about it, but he doesn’t think it’ll be a problem, not really. Well… it won’t be unless Sam’s keen on becoming Dean’s daddy, acting on the connotations of the word as it exists in Dean’s mind.

Without him even realizing it, Dean drifts off to sleep, mind churning with thoughts of Sam and the future. He wakes to a thumb trailing over his cheek and a light scrape of nails over his scalp, but it isn't until there’s a hand probing at his bottom that Dean’s eyes fly open. He sees Sam standing over the crib, smiling down at him, and all of the fears that had gone still in sleep leap again to the surface.

Why is Sam really doing this?

What does he get out of it?

How long before Dean pays the price for Sam's care?

What will he be forced to do to keep himself sane?

Questions swirl through his mind, springing up and falling away only for another to take its place, pushing the others aside as he questions everything that had made him happy during these last months.

“Dean, baby,” Sam soothes. “It's okay, baby. Nothing's going to hurt you. Papa’s here.”

The word stops Dean short.

All of the air rushes out of his lungs as he looks up at his brother-turned-caregiver with wide eyes.

“...papa?” he asks slowly.

Sam rubs his neck, sheepishly looking at everything but Dean, and Dean feels his heart go cold.

He's Bigger than he's been in months when he speaks again. “Why did you call yourself Papa, Sam?”  

“I didn't mean to overhear, I swear,” he says. “The monitor picked it up, and I thought…” Sam trails off with a shrug.

Dean looks to his right where Sam’s gaze is fixed on a blue and white baby monitor. It’s been right in plain sight this whole time, and he hadn’t even realized. What the hell kind of Hunter is he?

A retired one, obviously.

Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, forcing his rigid muscles to relax as he does. By the time he looks back at his brother, he’s calm enough to realize that, for better or worse, Sam won’t leave him like this. He doesn’t think so, at least. Even if Dean were to reject inappropriate advances, which may or may not actually exist, Sam’s put up with far too much to leave Dean now. If he were going to do it, it would have already happened.

That’s what he tells himself, even if he doesn’t wholly believe it.  

He needs answers.

“What did you think, Sam?” Dean asks quietly.

Sam shrugs again, the confidence Dean’s so used to seeing in his brother nowadays completely gone. “I liked it,” Sam says. “It felt…”

A small smile touches Sam’s lips, and Dean wants it to be aimed his way this time instead of at the wall beside him. It just doesn’t seem…

“…right.”

Dean knows exactly what he means.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair before chancing a look at him. “You don’t have to call me anything other than Sam if you don’t want to, Dean. I promise I won’t be mad. I really won’t. I just want you happy, okay?”

Dean believes him. He’s not sure why. Sam’s lied to him plenty of times over the years, and Dean’s never been able to tell until after when things are breaking down around him. Sam’s an expert in deception. Dean taught him himself. But Sam’s looking at him with these wide eyes that beg Dean to trust him, and Dean can’t say no to the sincerity aimed his way.

But he still has to ask. If he doesn’t, it’ll just fester. He knows it will. Just like his nightmares.

“This isn’t…” Dean’s tongue is lead in his mouth. “I mean… Is this some… _sex_ thing?”

The disgust on Sam’s face is all too real. “No,” he says adamantly.

“Are you sure?”

Sam cocks his head to the side. “Did, uh… did you want it to be? Because I don’t think I could do that, Dean. I’m not… I just… I can’t…”

“ _No_ ,” Dean says. “Sam, no. Not…” Dean grimaces. “Not _that_.”

Sam and Dean both breathe respective sighs of relief.

“Well,” Dean begins again, “if it’s not for… _that_ … then why are you doing all of this, Sam? You could’ve just stuck me in a home or left me with Bobby or done a billion other things. Why would you want to do this?”

Sam pets his hand through Dean’s hair, and Dean lets him, wondering if it might be the last time Sam looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“At first, it was just something to bring you back. I didn’t know what to do,” Sam admits. “You were _gone_. I didn’t think you would get better.”

Sam pauses, but Dean stays quiet, letting him think.

“It was Bobby’s idea,” Sam tells him. “He said that if you felt safe, you’d come back to us, that all I had to do was take care of you.”

That’s news to Dean, that Bobby would care enough about him to actually suggest something like this. Sure, he always seems fine with Dean acting like a kid, but Dean didn’t know that Bobby had played a major role in setting up the life he lives now.

“And so I took care of you. It was awkward and a little strange,” Sam admits, “and you were so unresponsive. I thought about giving up, but then I would see something, just a small glimpse of you inside somewhere, and I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going.”

This is the most Dean’s heard about his time away since he’s come back.

“I didn’t even realize how easy it became to take care of you. It just felt so natural, kiddo.

Dean wants to press, but something Sam had said catches Dean’s attention. “You said ‘at first.’”

“At first?”

“You said at first, it was just something to bring me back.” Dean says. “What about now?”

Sam smiles and pulls Dean up onto his knees to wrap him in a hug. It’s the warmest thing Dean’s ever felt, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

“By the time I got you back,” Sam tells him with a kiss to his temple, “I didn’t want to let you go. Somewhere along the line, I stopped thinking of you as my brother and started thinking of you as… I don’t know really. It’s the only thing that makes sense, Dean. I don’t ever want to stop. It… makes me happy.”

Dean’s almost scared to ask. “What does?”

“Making _you_ happy.”

And Dean _is_. Aside from this morning, he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. There are still problems, and Dean’s still slow to trust, but he’s _happy_.

It’s a foreign concept to him.

“So…” Sam hedges, pulling back a little to look Dean in the eye. “Papa?”

Dean grins. “Papa,” he says with a nod for good measure.

“Papa Sam and his Dean baby.”

Sam lifts him onto his hip, and Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s neck. It’s just so natural when Dean lets it be.

“I love it.” Sam kisses Dean’s forehead.

Dean loves it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Gawwww :) Love me a fluffy ending. Don't you? 
> 
> Let me know in the comments section!


End file.
